Tied at the waist, it pulls at me

Down through my bed and the floor beneath 

Through earth and clay and stone 

Down into pockets of water and air 

and stone again 

Ending in the middle of it all 

In the fire of molten rock 

And here is where it pulls me


Waking for the day 

It pulls


Seventeen steps to the washroom 

It pulls 


To shower, I sit

To dress, I shift it up and down and between each




A word then nothing 

It pulls 


there is joy and laughter 

And under that, it remains

Under a layer of cloth and shame 


Because It isn’t hard to tuck away

Into a waistband 

Under my skin 


At times I surrender

lean against it 

Let it hold me for a bit

A moment of weightlessness 


Then, unceremoniously, it folds me in two 

There is no hiding it now

splayed open with limbs flailing


“Where is all this coming from?”


- Angela D Reimer


Horseshoes > Circles